A Hot Pot One Shot
by Lacey52
Summary: A completely innocent panda who just likes to cook through the eyes of a tiger who now has a problem...that maybe isn't a problem at all. TiPo-ish.


A Hot Pot One Shot

By: Lacey52

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

A note:

Yes, I've been gone.

No, I haven't abandoned any of my stories.

My husband returned from his 9 month deployment to Afghanistan at the beginning of the month, so if I'm not working or sleeping, I'm hanging out and reconnecting with him.

Writing takes a back seat when I haven't seen that guy I sort of, kind of Adore (with a capital 'a') in three quarters of a year. I'm sure you guys will understand, and if not, pooh on you.

In the meanwhile, a one shot for you. Enjoy.

.o.O.o.o.O.o.

Steam wafted before her muzzle and Tigress felt the edges of her lips turn up in a snarl, even as her mouth watered. Before her stood an enemy; grinning a silly grin, eyes alight with hope and playfulness, and absolutely more dangerous and cunning than she had ever given him credit for.

Even with him being the Dragon Warrior.

And having attained inner peace at an age unheard of.

And having defeated Tai Lung and a flotilla of heavily armed ships. Alone.

At this point, she realized that the earthen pot held before her had tantalized her senses enough that she was beginning to lick her lips ever so slightly. Tigress put a stop to that immediately and brought her orange eyes to meet dancing, laughing green.

She realized too late that sometime while she had been calculating his dastardly plans and next move, Po had asked her a question.

She hadn't even heard it, and so was forced to asked ever so elegantly, "What?"

"Will you take this to the table?" the panda spoke again, gently delivering the vessel into her care, "Everybody should be in soon. It's your favorite tonight, but I guess your nose already told you that, huh?"

Po smiled softly and tapped his own black nose with a blunted claw, then turned back to whatever he was messing with over the cooking fire, rambling on the entire time about food and Kung Fu.

That's really all it seemed he ever spoke of, and sometimes the combination of the two, both from his thoughts he shared and the feats he displayed in real life, were mesmerizing.

As Tigress felt the warmth of the pot seep into her paw pads, mouth watering steadily, and belly rumbling at the tantalizing meal to come, she sighed softly and set the hot pot on the their small table, 'A little too mesmerizing at times.'

The tiger slid, boneless, into her chair to wait for the others. Outside, she was calm and composed with a straight back and an even straighter face, but inside was turmoil.

And it was all the panda's fault.

In the two years that Po had been in residence, not a day went by without at least one very good, very hearty meal, the few exceptions being the extremely rare instances of national tragedy, impending calamity, or, as Po would put it, bodaciously awesome fights that kept them from eating as they wished. Or as Po wished, usually.

And the results were obvious in all of them.

Oh, they were all still lean and toned, able to perform at the peak of their abilities, but a few pounds of weight had been added here and there, and it was making them better somehow. For reasons beyond her kin, Tigress found this disconcerting.

The worst part was easily thus; the harder she worked on any given day to rid herself of the extra weight, the more greatly rewarded she was by Po for her diligence and devotion to Kung Fu. And always the reward was in the form of ridiculously satisfying, mouth watering, stomach gurgling in demand for more, heaps of perfectly cooked and seasoned food.

A growl escaped her, and though it was quiet, she saw Po's ears perk in response. He paused, turned, canted his head cutely to the side and studied her momentarily, eyes sweeping over her form. A glow came about his face and the smile returned, "You know, you've been looking better lately. Healthier. Not so...ya' know...stick thin. Kinda' makes your face a little...I dunno' softer. Even prettier."

She gaped for a moment as he nodded and hummed in a satisfied manner to himself, not even able to comprehend the depths of his obvious ability to read others and what was on their minds. The implications of his compliment, and his wandering eyes, rushed to her and brought the blood to her cheeks with it.

There was no response she could offer that would not sound petulant or ungrateful, and so she kept her lips sealed tightly.

'Truly,' she tapped her claws on the wooden tabletop, grimacing slightly as she tracked the bear with a sidelong gaze and reddened cheeks, 'he is a most devastating and clever foe.'


End file.
